


Trick

by Destiny_Apocalypse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, He touch the bobbie s, SMUTTY SMUT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:39:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_Apocalypse/pseuds/Destiny_Apocalypse
Summary: Ashanna tricks the trickster





	Trick

She finds him exactly where she expects him to be, poured over some dry history book at his desk. The giant and colorful frescos loom over her as she saunters to the middle of the rotunda. Solas has noticed her entrance, and has already stood up in anticipation of her approach. With arms folded neatly behind him, he looks towards her direction with nothing more than detached professionalism behind his gaze.

“Inquisitor.” He nods his head as she reaches his desk. “Something I can assist with?”

“There is.” She nods, keeping her voice low. It is not entirely necessary; the libraries above them are bustling with the activity and conversations of a large portion of the mages that found their home in Skyhold. Still, the rotunda where Solas worked is visible to anyone who glances over the railings, so she mimics Solas’ stiff posture with a straightening of her back.

“The anchor has been quite painful lately. I was hoping you could help treat it.”

His brow furrows, eyes shifting towards her left hand that is tucked behind her back before flickering back up to her face.

“Of course. Would you prefer to examine it in a more secluded location?”

“Your room,” she agrees, turning on her heel towards the hallway. He follows behind her wordlessly, their lightly clad feet making barely a sound against the stone floors.

She lets herself in, finding the door unlocked and ensures it is closed securely behind her after they both enter.

“Your hand?” he asks, concern creasing across his forehead.

She lifts her left hand and pulls her gloves off, one at a time. The scar on her palm glows with a dull light as it often does, but instead of offering it to him for study, she reaches for the laces on the front of her tunic. A couple of quick tugs and it falls open, her breasts spilling out from the fabric.

Solas glances down briefly as if to consider her sudden nudity, then looks back up at her face. His expression still is unchanged; as if he were still ready to study the mark on her hand.

“The mark is stable then?”

“Yes.”

“I had not thought you to resort to trickery simply to get me in bed,” he observes, taking a step back when she takes one forwards. She puts a bit more spring into her step than normal, letting her breasts bounce from the movement.

“But you are so easily tricked, _ma’halla_.” She smiles, unable to hide her excitement. Heat prickles through the pores of her skin as anticipation bubbles inside her.

“By taking advantage of my desire to assist with a medical need,” he counters, eyebrows raising. The back of his legs hit the wooden post of his bed, stalling his backwards movement.

“I have other needs that you can assist with, if you still desire to help.” She toys with the laces hanging loose from her blouse, letting them swing and brush against the peaks of her nipples. “Or maybe you desire other things?”

He chuckles then, glancing away, but he cannot hide the redness blooming in his cheeks or at the tips of his ears. A flush spreads down through her body and sends a jolt of desire through her, knowing she flustered him as much as he does to her on so many occasions.

“I would be remiss in my duties, to allow the Inquisitor to suffer from unmet needs. How may I help?” he says after a moment, his eyes locking onto hers. His gaze is steely, and sends a fresh shiver down her spine.

“Not Inquisitor,” she breathes. “Not here.”

“Then how may I help you, _Ashanna_?”

Her name sounds ancient on his tongue; as precious as any of the lost and forgotten memories he seeks and treasures from the Fade.

“Sit on the bed,” she says, putting her hands on her hips.

He does. He seats himself at the edge, feet planted on the ground and hands firmly gripping his knees. His posture is rigid, waiting for her to speak next. His eyes are still firmly trained on her own.

She climbs into his lap instead, her thighs bracketing his. She takes a moment just to look at him, the sternness of his face contrasted with a red flush that makes his freckles stand out starkly from his pale skin.

Her hips are now snug against his own, finding an all too familiar hardness brushing against her inner thigh. The desire that floods through her right there makes her inhale sharply; knowing that nothing more than their little verbal game and her tits were enough to get him in such a state.

“Touch me,” she says, only a little breathless.

“I must point out that I am already touching you, _vhenan_. You must be more specific.”

Oh, he could be such an ass at times.

She laughs, pulling on the leather cording of his pendant to bring him closer to her. “Grab my tits, _leth’alas_.”

Finally, _finally_ his mask breaks and a small smile breaks out across his lips as he leans forward to press his lips to her collarbone while he reaches up to grasp each breast in hand. She exhales when he palms her roughly, hefting and squeezing the flesh while deliberately avoiding the most sensitive parts of her.

A tongue drags down the center of her breast bone and back up to her neck, teeth pulling the skin between his lips to suck harshly. She would have a mark there the next day, but with the feeling of his warm, calloused hands on her breasts she didn’t really care overmuch. The arousal coursing through her is too strong, making her hips rock against the hard press of his body while he touches her.

She loves having him like this. Despite all his word games and posturing he is so eager to please and worship her, every touch deliberate and reverent and making her feel, for the small time they had in this tiny little room, like the rest of the world didn’t matter. There was no Inquisition, no Corypheus, no petitioners bowing at her feet; just his hands on her tits and mouth against her skin unwinding the stress that has knotted up inside her day by day.

Thumbs brush against each hard nipple, forcing a moan from her that fills the room. His lips are kissing the swell of her breasts, dragging teeth down the sensitive sides while she sucks a breath in between clenched teeth. It feels so good, and she tells him so, hearing his pleased huff of air against her skin at her words while his lips kiss their way back up to the side of her neck.

She craves more, in no mood for his prolonged explorations.

“Lie back,” she whispers, voice raspy with need. He does, resting back against the bed while she straddles his thighs, and she takes a moment just to admire the redness in his cheeks with pupils blown wide from desire for her. His eyes are slightly glazed from his own need, and she can feel the pulse of his blood through the cock hard between her legs. She can’t resist grinding her hips a little, watching him tense and groan at the friction.

“Vhenan,” he says with a slight gasp in his throat. “Are you simply going to tease me all day? I do have work to to accomplish-”

She laughs, rich and full at his mock annoyance. Her body ripples from the motion, momentarily capturing his attention as she finds his eyes darting towards her chest. She leans forward, crawling up his body so that her breasts swing directly over his mouth.  
It has the desired effect as he pulls one nipple into his mouth while a large hand cradles each side of her, thumbing the other. She groans his name out, arching her hips but finding nothing to grind against anymore in their current position. She is too short to reach his groin, and her hips press uselessly against his stomach.

Sensing her frustration, one of his hands drops down to reach between their bodies and slide beneath the waistband of her leggings. Two fingers press against the slickness between her legs, tracing the shape of her while she gasps out small, clipped moans. Between his hand and mouth she’s lost in a dizzy wave of lust; his lips suck hard on her skin, switching between breasts until her nipple is swollen and oversensitive. When he bites gently she cries out, rocking against his hand pressing against her.

“Solas,” she keens, desperate to ease the pressure that’s building up inside her.

“Yes, my Heart?” He presses plush lips against her skin before slipping two fingers into her wet heat.

“Solas,” she gasps again, incoherent. Sweat drips down the side of her face despite the chill, matting into her hair. Her limbs ache from keeping them stretched taut but she doesn’t dare slacken them, focused only on the fingers deep inside her and the mouth sucking at her breasts.

When she comes she drops her head into the crook of his neck to muffle her cries, her breasts slipping from his mouth with a wet ‘pop.’ Her hips rock back into him, riding out the crest of her orgasm hard enough to shake the wooden bedframe. His fingers curl to press deeper into her, heightening her climax until she is shaking.

It takes several minutes for the roar of her blood to die down and her breathing to return to normal, and when she finds her senses again she is curled atop her lover, his fingers still gently moving inside her. He kisses the top of her head and withdraws his fingers that glisten in the light of the lone torch of his room. Her body still shudders from her orgasm and the tension that was wound through her, and she feels as though she wants nothing more than to lay here for the rest of the day and sleep.

But they cannot; both have duties that require attending, and when Solas slides her over to sit up she sighs.

The front of his breeches are still noticeably tented, and she realizes she’s been a selfish lover. She sits up, putting a hand on his thigh to stop him. He does, and she kisses him.

He melts into her kiss, hands bracing themselves onto the bed while her tongue slips into his mouth. Her free hand brushes over the tip of his erection through his breeches, enjoying the small hitch in his breathing when she does. Distracting him with her mouth, she makes quick work of the lacing of his breeches, pulling his cock out and closing her fist over him.

Her fingers gather the fluid leaking from the head, swirling it around while he tenses beneath her. It’s not quite enough, so she releases his lips for a brief moment to spit into her hand.

“Charming,” he says dryly, but hisses when her slick hand grasps him in full and slides down the length of him.

“You love it.” Ashanna smiles against his lips, imploring him to reciprocate with her tongue.

“I love _you_ ,” he responds, with just enough seriousness in his tone to make her grip falter slightly. She presses her face against his neck in a quick nip and grasps him again, making his fists grip the bedsheets tightly. She works her hand over him roughly, squeezing around his balls; heavy and tight against his body. He is so large in her small hand that she struggles to grasp him completely; so she pulls against the hard velvety flesh in a quick rhythm. His head is on her shoulder, and all she can hear is his clipped gasps of pleasure and the wet slap of her hand against his cock.

When he comes it is a quiet hiss, his spend splattering all over her front; landing on her chin and sliding in between her breasts and down her stomach. She keeps pumping until the last bit spills out and he begins to soften in her fingers.

She slides her wet fingers to her mouth to taste him while he catches his breath, thighs trembling beside her.

“Solas, you made quite the mess of me,” she teases, wiping a strand of his cum from her chin.

“Ah, it seems that I have. Allow me to rectify my error?” he responds with a gleam in his eye before pinning her back to the bed.

“I thought you had work to get back to,” she pokes him in the chest, then gasps when he sucks hard on the underside of her jaw. Her nippes are hard again, scraping against the rough wool of his tunic.

She expects another smart response, but his mouth meets hers again, slow and deliberate. A kiss full of heat of a different kind; the kind that makes her chest burn and her stomach flutter. Her arms come up to hold him, and it is a long time before the return back to the rest of the world.


End file.
